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Clocks

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Tick, tock, tick, tock, delicate hands of time,

Silk shuttlecocks carry fine memories,

Of forever days, carefree ways gone by,

Slipped between clasped fingers like sand-soaked sea.

Cupid’s mercurial ballerinas

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me.

Blown on the wind, innocent, no danger,

Floating o’er riverbanks, quarries, and trees.

Untarnished moments, polished and pristine,

Innocence of youth encapsulated.

Echoing swinging ropes and trains of steam,

A mother’s call in the dark, time for bed.

This dandelion parachute you see,

Sweet child of my youth, it was blown by me.

 

 

Please do leave me your thoughts and comments, in praise or constructive criticism, I appreciate them all and will reply.

Read the rest of my works at grahamparkerpoetry.com

 

◄ Faded Icons

Daisy chains at sea ►

Comments

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Graham Parker

Mon 17th May 2021 16:56

Thank you Martin and thanks also to all those who have liked this one. I think the passion speaks for itself here.

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Martin Elder

Mon 17th May 2021 11:03

There are some great lines here. But I think my favourite has got to be
Cupid’s mercurial ballerinas

fabulous poem Graham

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